“Story?” asks Fergal.

“Flannan’s document. The story of the tower and the monster and all. Said he’d have it translated by tonight. Need to hear it before midsummer.”

“Let us walk over to the scriptorium now and see what progress Master Flannan has made.” Ríordán sounds calm.

“I’ll bid you farewell,” says Fergal. “The rain seems to be over; I’d best check what damage the garden has sustained. It looks as if you may be able to finish our roof after all, Grim.”

He’s right. The rain’s eased; the air’s fresh. Smells like new beginnings. Garden should be full of things sprouting up, reaching out their leaves. Good feeling. Makes me braver. “Brother Ríordán,” I say as we head for the infirmary building, “can I still see the book? Tomorrow, maybe, or the day after?”

“My offer stretches as long as you wish, Grim. Tomorrow, by all means. When your work is finished for the day, or earlier if it suits you. You know where to find me. My opening the collection to you may put some folk’s noses out of joint a little. Don’t let that trouble you.”

“Should say, though . . . never did learn to read. Couldn’t get the knack of it. But I’d dearly like to see it. The pictures and all.”

“You could learn. Time and patience, that’s all it takes. And faith in yourself.”

We get to the infirmary. Go round to the back, where they’ve got the scriptorium set up. He goes in. I wait at the door; can’t make myself follow after. Step by step, they said. This is a step I can’t take, not yet.

Ríordán’s not gone long. What he tells me when he comes out is that Flannan’s left already. Finished his work, packed up and headed off early, while the three of us were sitting over our ale. Means he will have got to Geiléis’s house long ago. So maybe I’ve missed the whole thing. Blackthorn won’t be pleased with me. I say a quick good-bye, then turn tail and run.

32

Geiléis

The scholar did her a favor. He did not wait until supper time, but arrived in midafternoon, while Blackthorn was away and Grim still occupied at St. Olcan’s.

She had spent most of the day pacing up and down, biting her nails to the quick, her body full of a restless anticipation. Onchú, on watch outside, saw Flannan coming and sent Dau in to warn her. By the time the scholar arrived she was ready to receive him, with men-at-arms in place to divert Grim, should he come back too early. Her guards had another purpose: to take action should Flannan prove troublesome. She hoped that would not be necessary. If he suddenly disappeared, questions would be asked that had no easy answers. Blackthorn was not going to believe that on the day he’d planned to share his discovery with them her friend had packed up and left without warning and without explanation.